


The Very Long Letter Bran Left on His Desk

by Morbane



Category: Crown Duel - Sherwood Smith
Genre: Constructive Criticism Welcome, Courtship, Epistolary, F/M, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 01:05:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbane/pseuds/Morbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>...I must have been gaping, because Shevraeth lifted his glass. “My dearest Branaric,” he drawled in his most courtly manner, “never tell me you failed to inform your sister of your approaching change in status.”</i>
</p><p>  <i>Bran’s silly grin altered to the same kind of gape I’d probably been displaying a moment before. “What? Sure I did! Wrote a long letter, all about it—” He smacked his head.</i></p><p>  <i>“A letter that is still sitting on your desk?” Shevraeth murmured...</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Very Long Letter Bran Left on His Desk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [osprey_archer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/osprey_archer/gifts).



Dear Mel,

The pile of papers I've discarded, beginning this letter to you, is probably solid and high enough to be a fair replacement for my foot-stool.

In fact, just writing that down, I've decided not to discard any more. You will think me easily softened by Court life - though I'd quibble with you as to the outrage one ought to feel about that - but some habits die hard. So don't be surprised to receive a bundle of scraps and scratchings - it's all thrift.

* * *

Dear sister, I was out of sorts when I wrote that. I had started in on telling you about a court ball, and then the note you sent in response to my last description of courtly fun came to my mind. That was plenty terse for a message you cared to convey all the way from Tlanth! Today yet again one of the Court ladies asked if you were coming to Athanarel this winter. I said of course you were, for I would persuade you. You could always choose to prove me right...

And so I threw away that description, and decided that would be the last one tossed. Perhaps you'll toss your head at descriptions of fabrics - laugh at my descriptions of music, which doesn't convey it to your ears - page impatiently through my talk of others' talk - but it is how the days go, and if you want news of me, you'll find it within...

Enough. I feel as though you and I have come almost to a quarrel within my own head, and I'd like to make our peace.

* * *

I last wrote here three days ago. I suppose if you had made a flounce to me about fripperies, we'd have made it up by now - I tease you for your temper but, to your credit, you never used to be one for grudges.

_[scribbled-over section in which 'Vidanric' can still be made out]_

In truth, I rarely have time to write. No one spends much time in their lodgings, even those few who have family homes here, and family. My rooms are well-furnished: they used to belong to a cousin of Debegri's (I don't mind depriving him of them, that's certain) - and I'll scribble a note here and there, and then it's time to go out riding or to a play or some other show. And why burn oneself down with the midnight candles when there's always the following day? Except, when I think of that, it's almost dizzying - I see how at court autumn might drift into winter and spring again - I think that's how all these Court-raised folks come by their languid air. They barely blink and the day's colours change. Actually that's truer than just my saying. They do barely blink. Sometimes I wonder if it's one of those things that's gauche, like a sneeze. Lucky being raised away from here I don't bother too much by that, and I say so. It hasn't hurt me yet. Mel, you'll think you need a Court mask to survive here, but you don't. I do well enough for friends.

* * *

But so much is always happening beneath the surface. I think you'd see it clearer; some of it's petty, like old families in Tlanth and their grudges, and I ignore it just as you do them. And some seems just as petty as that to me, but all of them, even Vidanric, move to the ripples. I think you'd puzzle it better.

I turn around and something's happened, and I've no idea when the documents were drawn up or the proclamation laid down. Maybe they do all stay up to do business until gold-change... Like that cousin of Debegri's. I met him, you see, when we first arrived - he bowed past his knees - and next thing I know, he's been packed off to the family estate. Except he has no inheritance there. I asked what was afoot - because for all I know, it's a Court-fancy way of giving him a tap on the nose, just like a puppy, and he'll be granted a share of lands again by the new king. Danric said, hm, that was one thing Galdran used to do.

But you see, this is the palace I'm staying in - the official guest rooms - and whoever has the say at Athanarel can boot you out any time they like. I asked, a bit innocent I suppose, why someone who was told they mightn't stay in the official guest rooms wouldn't just rent other lodging in Remalna-city - it's not as if there aren't fine inns here, and anyone can see that - but Danric explained that to be evicted from the guest room is such a sign of disfavor that no one will do business with you, so it's better to go quietly. And I suppose the difference here is that Galdran used to do that at a whim, but the Prince and Princess - Danric's parents, you've heard they're overseeing things, surely? - they mean it.

And as I write to you, it comes to me that since the Renselaeuses don't really hold power - well, officially, I should say - Debegri's cousin might have taken it in his head to stay in the city to challenge them. So his leaving, maybe that says people do really see them as the authority. Or maybe it's that he might have thought it wiser to go anyway until there's a crowned king again and things are more certain.

Or maybe he never wanted to be here. I don't really know any of this; that thought I just had seems the kind of thing that everyone here already knows. They're not so much a pace ahead as a layer above. All the implications they keep in their head are tight as blackweave. I'm not so quick with the implications. Maybe you're surprised to see me writing my thoughts on paper to you almost as they form, but in truth, I've sometimes found it easier to think that way than in conversation. You see, you never liked to write your thoughts down - I know you've told me your handwriting makes you too conscious and doubtful, and you surely can keep it all in your head - but just as I'm the opposite of you in quick words, I'm the opposite of you in this.

* * *

It's not just to save paper that I'm keeping all these scraps together. Here's a thing for you to laugh at - because of course I would use the back of one of my old thought-I-tossed-it-out letters to you to accept an invitation somewhere. The lady Tamara was all set to cut me for that - that's when they don't speak to you, I understand - but then she went all smiles and said it was my rustic charm. Danric told me me it doesn't take much to turn Tamara Chamadis cold, anyroads, if that's her fancy, and so I shrugged and said I wouldn't mind if I did, then; there're some like that back home, and you just wait them out until they come right again. He laughed. I think I surprised him. But what can you do with someone else's temper?

And you'll forgive me, sister, for saying I don't know what to do with yours either. Twice I've written to you to tell you to come to Athanarel. I've told them so many times of you; you should arrive at last, lest I start to tell them about the time you led an army of Hill Folk to defeat a tornado god out from Colendi islands way.

They don't know much about the Hill Folk. Of course they know the Covenant. I was anxious to be sure about that. I was wondering, if there are those among them who don't fear to break it, maybe it's been washed down and away in a Court education... They can repeat it back to me. No fear.

But they don't know the Hill Folk like you and I do, Mel. What's almost stranger to me is what they think you and I do know... as though the Hill Folk were like a language or a kind of accounting, and with study, you'd master them. I can't quite tell it to them. How living near them means that what you know is what you don't know...

Oh, I've tangled myself up on paper as surely as I do with my tongue; but you'll understand me. It's late here and the bluewine was good. Have to turn in now - riding tomorrow with Vidanric and Savona and Renna and Nimiar and Jaylev.

* * *

I look up and see I've written you a list of names. No time to spell them all out now. Savona's a friend of Danric's - cousin too. Renna's a keen rider.

The ride wasn't quite what I was expecting. We all went cross-country a good way north and lunched at an inn. It was Jaylev's lands - well, his father's sister-in-law's lands - and I think he had a mind to impress some point about them onto Danric. Danric hardly let him get a word out. I don't think he liked the tableau they made, Jaylev standing in front of his connections' people, talking about their needs. Not that Danric doesn't listen to that kind of thing. They have an petitioners' court where they talk over matters, and Danric goes regular as time-change itself. I think he thought there was something of a play about it, just then at the inn.

You think Danric slippery; I tell you he's not, but then you've never really had his Court manners applied to you, because you didn't see him then. 

I would scribble that out but I've resolved not to do that. Let's hold me to my words. I can see you in our old castle - well, I hope it doesn't look so old now, you've had months about its affairs and you're no slouch - scowling at this script. There's no better way to put it. He was smooth then as he hasn't been with us. He has this way of shutting people down.

The others were doing it too. Not the lady Nimiar so much; it was her look of anxiety that twigged me something was going on. Danric just sort of kept changing the topic, and Jaylev tried to be more and more direct but he was losing. Finally he gave up and we had a nice meal; and then Jaylev recalled some errand back at Remalna-city, which I suppose was an excuse to bolt, because then he did.

I'll concede you one thing about courtly masks: they do care about keeping up a good face. So much so that they lose it all the faster, is my opinion.

* * *

Here's a case in point to that.

The lady Tamara asks me about you the most. She seems very stuck on the idea of you as a heroine. Wants to know all the little details like just how long you had to trek across country without so much as a hat. Calls it unbelievable suffering, with a little flutter of her hands. 

So I told her about what a firebrand you are; I figure if you do come - when you come, I do believe in you - they ought to be forewarned. I told them what you thought of Court life and fops and frippery, and I thought it a good joke.

They were all mightily offended. I'd thought they'd see I don't really believe it of them - Elenet has stories for me of her household staff and her dealings with them that I can match with Tlanth's elders' best quavering - but even the suggestion put their backs up.

I was astonished. Then Vidanric laughed, really laughed, and it was the rest, even Savona and Nimiar, who's a confederate of his, who were all taken about again. I think they know he can joke, but I don't think they've see things go the other way.

Geral, who's a younger lad, started to laugh - I could see it was forced - and Vidanric waved him down, then he clutched onto my arm and howled some more, and they all relaxed.

I'm missing something. There was something there about why, when the leaders laugh, someone else has to join in - and I meant to ask Nimiar about it but I forgot...

It's not the only reason Tamara's a little chilly to me. I thought I'd set things aright with her, but I went about it the worst way. You remember we sent for aid to Turlee before the war really broke out - and during - and that's the seat her mother held, and her father's there still. I said something peaceable about the war tales she'd asked of, about you, and about how I knew, now, that there'd been different battles afoot than just ours. I meant it to be a gift of peace - there are times I think I'd have held a resentment, and I know you would, and I was trying to tell her that I held no grudge. Anyroads, however I said it, I said it wrong. It's a chafing thing, for she was quite warm to me when I first came - exclaimed over my transformation when Danric's tailor got his hands on me. She has quite a brilliancy about her, but she may be disappointed in me for failing to turn quite away from playing the rustic. Perhaps she thought it was only ever a play.

I thought at first when I came here I'd have work to do; yet of the people Danric speaks to, and those whose affairs I'm used to straightening out, there's no commonality. I may be a count - and glad of it among these folk - but the headmen and smiths and equerries I know in Tlanth, well - for Savona, say, to give orders to the same headmen and smiths and so on in his own lands, he'd talk to an administrator, and he'd talk to an overseer, and he'd talk to someone like me who'd talk to the smiths. No wonder our speech is so different. 

Instead, I've come to the conclusion I have play to do. I can hear your snort! But Mel, there's no sense in living only for the work. Just as you fire up in indignation enough for the both of us, some of the Court leaders here work well hard enough to me, and I have to remind them what the good things are. It isn't quite so simple as putting a spoon of some good dish in my mouth and making blissful noises.

* * *

I tried to wrangle them for a better ride another day. Nimiar again, and Renna - Renna is a great lover of horses - and Savona; Vidanric was occupied. 

I told them I'd heard of the midsummer races that used to be held in the Capital.

"I wasn't fond of those," Nimiar told me. She's among the quieter ones; she flinches when there's discord. I wondered at her directness now. I asked her to tell me more.

"The last day was always the commoners' race agains the nobles," Nimiar said.

"It was rigged, of course," Savona added. "Against us."

I couldn't understand why Galdran would cast it that way. My confusion was pretty clear, so they kept explaining it. Apparently it wasn't the commoners who were rigged to win - not exactly - though the rumour might be spread about that they had nearly won. It would always be some rankless man among Galdran's guards.

"One of his assassins," Savona said.

"Did everyone know, then...?" I suppose it hadn't occurred to me that a death on the king's roads was an open secret when it was someone the king wasn't fond of.

"He never did things by half," Renna said. She was quite angry then. Remember I said she loves horses. I gather some of the rigging Galdran did was pretty foul. "When he could humiliate us, and remind us not to think of escape from Remalna-city, and provide entertainment for the countryfolk, all at once..."

"That is grim," I told them, and we all rode in silence for a little while, and I rode a bit closer to Nee, out of chagrin, for I could see she was troubled by the memory, and that was my doing. 

She lifted her head soon after and began, in court fashion, to talk about the weather, as though that was all we'd been talking about on the entire ride. I couldn't help it - I gaped at her. She winked at me.

Someone's turn to make me laugh, for a change, I suppose - though living under Galdran seems to have given her, maybe others too, a grisly sense of humour.

* * *

Well, I wasn't done with Tamara. 

Brace yourself, dear sister, for another tale of a ball.

This was the Autumn Ball; it was hosted by the Marquise of Merindar for no reason I could discern. Danric told me that as though I was supposed to nod my head wisely back at him, and I quite failed to do so, and he laughed and shrugged it off. 

I think he tests me against the idea of kingship just as much as the courtiers whose manners I like less. I'll borrow one of his fine phrases; I don't resent the experience. I don't think I win points as a future king, but I'll take other things in the place of that.

So, the ball. A masquerade, which is when everyone has their face hidden by a very fine headpiece that covers the face and takes the place of a hat. Up to now, one of the nicest things about fine Court fabrics is the way they fit so accommodatingly, whether you're riding or lying out at a picnic or sitting formally at court - I mean, they have different outfits for all of these, but the point is, you could go about in the same style and your body wouldn't grumble at it. I do admire Savona and Danric in their lawn or their moiré, but it's the fit that's the secret luxury.

So the contrast is the ladies' ball gowns, which I can't imagine would be truly comfortable, the way they billow out and swirl around - pretty, but heavy. I see why the Marquise holds her grand ball in autumn, when the weather starts to turn.

To the story, then. Tamara begged me to come early and dance with her, and long story short, I did. Then, she cajoled out of me a great volume of stories about Tlanth - and she timed it, I realise that now, so that I'd be in the middle of one when a dance stopped and she flew away to get some refreshment, saying she'd brought me wine in the last interval, and now she had a fancy to have a sip herself.

She disappeared into the crowd and I stumbled a bit after her - it was the fourth dance, and that was true about the wine - and could barely find her anywhere. As it was, I saw the gold-brown gown she was wearing just before the next dance started. 

So I took my partner's hand and off we spun, and I started back in on the story.

Tamara didn't say a word.

It was a dance that turned fast towards the end, so I put a stop to my words and about we whirled - I am getting better at dancing, though five's about my limit, especially if the food's good - and because it was fast, it ended with quite a few gaps between all the couples.

So Tamara had quite an audience when she stomped back onto the dance floor, face aflame, and twitched off my partner's mask to reveal Nee.

She said something light and cutting, her eyebrows raised so high they disappeared up into her mask, about how foolish I'd been to mistake Nee's knock-off gown for hers; about how insulted she was that I hadn't told my partners apart even by their conversation. I had a moment to think that honestly, it must have been a mistake others had made. If the point's not to see a face... But I realised soon after that she'd set me up to look foolish.

And Nee too, though I didn't know why.

I sank to my knees and kissed Nee's hand. I didn't know what else I could do. I gabbled something, I've no idea what. Then we stumbled off the dance floor together.

I glanced back. Tamara's face really was a picture then. I think she'd expected me to apologise to her. I hope you scoff at that idea, Mel. I'll play the fool gladly on myself, but there's no call for someone to try to make me look an even greater fool.

But I apologised to Nee pretty comprehensively. And the moment I'd finished doing that, and caught my breath, I asked her if she'd like a proper dance.

For a moment, she looked horrified. Then tempted. Then she shook her head, and I started to let go her hand, but she suggested we talk, instead, and walk out under the stars. 

So - that was as elaborate a Court prank as any I'd ever heard tell about. And I had heard tales! No disaster in the end, though.

* * *

Well, not quite the end. It's been three days; I had to give into curiosity and ask about Tamara. I tried it with Danric and he went all closed off on me. Well, after she'd made a sally at me, I didn't think it was such bad manners to find out why she'd behaved that way, so I tried Savona then.

I said I couldn't see anything in it but spite and childishness. I wasn't angry, because Nee and I had made our peace at least; Tamara had meant to imply, as I guessed, that I was such a bumpkin I found the ladies interchangeable, but me leaving with Nee had worked that out not at all in her favor. So Nee lost nothing for it, or so I guess.

Savona agreed, with a bit of a laugh, that it was spiteful, and it was childish, but I could see he wasn't nearly done with his ideas. 

"Do you remember Vidanric," he said, "at the tailor's with you, when you first came?"

I did. I'd done a bit of boggling when Savona and Danric took me along to get my first court outfits. I'd been impressed not just by the fineness of the cloths - and well, I wasn't quite used to the idea of being rich, so I was pretty impressed with myself as well (do you know the feeling, Mel?) - but also by how knowledgeably Danric talked about weights and dyes - what colours were fashionable to contrast and to arrange harmoniously, what fabrics to use for each season, what was durable in cloth or colour and what wasn't, what textile had value even if it might fade or tear. 

Savona said, "When Vidanric came back to life under Galdran, from the Colendi court, he came as the most outrageous fop anyone could ever imagine. He dazzled every noble in the place with his knowledge of lace and velvet and silk."

He gave me one of those Court looks that is very hard to read, an intent look. "Do you think Danric likes talking about fashion?" he asked me.

I had to think about it, and had to give up on certainty. "It was pretty useful when he outfitted me," I said.

"True enough," Savona said. "Danric hated being a fop when it was all he was allowed to be. But it was useful to be a fop. And to play the part, he had to know fashion and fabric. Now... he knows fashion and fabric, even if it isn't a necessity imposed on him by his plans."

"I see," I said.

"Now how does that make you see Tamara?" he inquired of me, like a teacher to a student. I'd almost forgotten that she was the subject under discussion.

"You're saying... being flighty and fickle is something she's good at?"

Savona laughed then. Probably at me.

"It's a skill, you know," he said. He sounded quite warm. I'd almost forgotten how fond he was of her. "Like being a fop. It was harmless entertainment for the king, for one thing. He liked to see us pursue limited, petty ambitions, and the path Tamara walked... obliged him."

"But do you think it's good for her?" I said, thinking through this.

"It does suit her, in some ways," Savona said, and he used a Court drawl for that. That was all he cared to say, apparently. He got up then, and left me, whistling down the path, while I put my hands to my hips and pondered.

The result of my pondering was simple, and I think you'd approve, Mel; I merely resolved to keep a civil distance from the lady Tamara.

It seems to have worked out that I spend more time with the lady Nimiar instead; an odd consequence perhaps of the ball's antics, but a pleasant one.

* * *

I know I wrote on some paper or another about the mud incident. Well, never mind. I'll come to the point: I've asked the lady Nimiar - Argaliar, I should probably say - to marry me.

I've been flicking back through these pages (mostly looking for the mud incident, and there's a tale about the geese herders' guild that's missing too), and reading back, I have to think I've told some of the tale of how that came to pass already.

But, to the missing bits. Here's a funny thing: when I confessed my feelings, she told me quite calmly that she was aware of them.

I wasn't sure how to answer that.

And then she told me that she'd told me she loved me three times, one way or another, only because she'd done it subtly, I suppose, with court language - trying to seek out how I felt - I'd completely missed it.

Apparently I nearly lost her for good one time when she took up Tamara's usual thread of where you were, Mel, instead of at Athanarel, and were you really such a firebrand, and would you approve of someone like her? (It was something like that, but Trishe told me later it really wasn't subtle at all, to her ears. It was Nee asking if she'd likely be welcomed into my family.

And the second time involved a gift of a garland, which I have to say I was rather proud to wear across my hat, and the flower device has a special meaning, especially in the Argaliar family - and I didn't even think to ask about it properly, I just admired it for a gift.

And then there was the ball, and how we talked afterwards, except that came in between those other two - I know I'm mangling the story.

She said she was quite upset at first, because here she'd held her heart out to me, and I'd not taken her offer. And when she told me this, I started to get a sinking feeling, as though I'd been undergoing a review without even knowing it, and failing it, at something I cared about a lot more than kingship.

So I asked her what she thought, now, and I was quite humble, since I wasn't sure.

She said she'd thought back to the ball, and how even Tamara hadn't realised that Nee had feelings for me - for Tamara would never have set up the prank in that way if she'd known. And if Tamara didn't know, maybe I didn't either. She said she'd realised that if she wanted me, she had to tell me to my face, and that she was doing that now.

She said she'd taken it as a gift, in the end, as she chose to take me; she said loved me for my bluntness, and how I valued bluntness, and the way that in doing so, I dulled the sharpness of the knives that everyone still held under their tongues at this court.

(I realise that isn't the recommendation of Athanarel I've been trying to give you, Mel, and not everyone has a barbed tongue. But that is what Nee said. And it's not so true now, under the Prince and Princess of Renselaeus, but it was true under Galdran. There's a reason our Court folk have lost the habit of saying what they mean.)

* * *

It's time we came to you, Mel, since you won't come to us. There's the turn of the year here, which I wouldn't miss even to see you - and that's an equal dealing between us at present, I must say! But no matter.

We'll pack when the snow lies still. I know it'll be rougher in the mountains. I admit I'm looking forward to how the winter lies there.

I know you'll like Nimiar, Mel. I trust you'll give her a fine welcome. I know you'll have turned our castle into something we can both be proud of.

* * *

PS: Vidanric rides with us too.


End file.
